Stargazer
by Karen D. Morton
Copyright 1989 by Karen D. Morton. All rights reserved.

Chapter 3
1895

     On Monday Eliza, Linda, Mr. Cromley, Eddie and I
accompanied Mother and Mrs. Fisher to the Passenger Depot on
Gay Street.  When the train for Atlanta came in, Mother whispered a
request in my ear:  She wanted me to go through Paw's things, yet
another task she couldn't "bear" to do.  I whispered back that I
would.  Mrs. Fisher hugged Eddie and me goodbye.  We stayed on
the platform until the train pulled away with puffs of smoke and
steam.
     The five of us headed across the bridge over the railway
switching yard.  A rainbow of cargo and passenger cars sat on the
tracks.  They alternated with coal cars and flatbed cars carrying
machines.  Thick coal smoke hung over the yard like an old curtain. 
Mr. Cromley wheezed and coughed until we got past Vine Street. 
Eddie crossed Gay Street to go to the Hays-Henson Shoe Company.
     "It's about time that boy got hisself another job," Mr.
Cromley said.  "I hear them there horseless carriages are gonna put
liveries out of business next year."
     I had wondered why Eddie had worn his Sunday suit to-day. 
His retreating figure reflected in the window at Davis and Company. 
I wished I could afford to let them make me a new mourning gown. 
I had spilled coffee on mine, and it still wasn't dry this morning. 
Mother, as always, chided me for wearing my yellow blouse dress. 
If I had to wear mourning clothes, I would rather wear a mourning
gown like Olivia Harper had described in her column.
     "You comin', Car'line?"  Eliza stepped into the street to let a
white woman pass by.  Linda hung on to Eliza's skirt.  Mr. Cromley
continued his trek toward Commerce, then he went into Kulman's
Kut Rate Korner.  Eliza muttered something about God having
mercy on his soul.  "Po' Mistuh Cromley come outta there wit' a bag
full o' tonics, and none o' them gonna help."  Again, she stepped
behind me to let white folks pass by on the sidewalk.
     An errand boy riding his bicycle waved at a group of boys in
front of the YMCA.  When we reached Wall Street, Eliza took
Linda around the corner.  Eliza would buy some chicks to raise this
summer in the pen behind the carriage house.  Of course, she would
have to buy everything in the back of the Market House and carry it
home on the street car.  Thank goodness Linda was finally big
enough to help her.
     I would have normally turned onto Clinch to go to the
Deadrick Building; instead, I crossed to get to the Mechanics
National Bank.  Mr. Kellers wanted me to make a deposit for him. 
The bank teller took the money and wrote me a receipt.  He smiled
broadly when I wished him a good morning. After that, I had two
errands left, both on Clinch.  Last night, I had written a letter to
Mrs. S. A. Stebbins in Michigan in response to her advertisement.  I
hoped I could really earn $18 more a week by working at home. 
My "leisure hours" had increased now that Paw had passed on.  My
other errand was to pick up a suit from the tailor shop for Mr.
Moore.
     I stopped to watch a bristly old man get a shave in the barber
shop.  I would buy a pearl handled razor for Eddie's birthday with
the extra money from my second job.  And if Mr. Kellers raised my
pay to $25 a week this year, I'd even have a few dollars to spend on
myself.  I started to move away from the barber shop.
     The reflection of a gentleman in a brown suit caught my eye. 
He had been standing there for some time. When I walked a few
steps toward Clinch Avenue, he also walked a few steps toward
Clinch Avenue.  I crossed Gay Street, and so did he.  His intentions
obviously were not good, or he would have spoken to me directly. 
My gaze darted up and down Gay Street.  Of all the folks bustling
about, whom could I ask for help?  Outside the undertaker's at the
corner of Gay and Church, a policeman walked up to two arguing
men.  I headed for them.
     As I neared the Masonic Temple, I glanced around my
shoulder.  The stranger in the brown suit was no longer behind me. 
The policeman would surely think of me as flighty if I went to him
like this.  Perhaps I had made a mistake.  I again headed for Clinch
Avenue.  I had errands to run and work to do. This was no time for
foolishness.
     As I passed the People's Bank, the stranger's reflection again
caught my eye.  I used my free hand to lift my skirts so I could
quicken my step.  My parasol barely missed a gentleman as I
rounded the corner onto Clinch Avenue.  Mid-morning heat made
me perspire under my short cape; not even the parasol completely
blocked the unforgiving summer sun.  And the stranger was getting
closer!  I darted into the street.  A startled horse made me jump
back.  My foot slipped in a patch of mud, but I kept my balance.
     "Ma'am, please be careful!" called the carriage driver.
     The stranger was almost upon me.  I ran across Clinch and
into the tailor shop.  I caught my breath after I closed the door.  The
clerk looked strangely at me, so I dug out the claim check for Mr.
Moore's suit.
     I chewed on my gloved finger while I stared out the window. 
Once again, the stranger had disappeared.  I wiped my brow with a
handkerchief.  Maybe he had found another woman to chase by
now.  I would post my letter and get to work.  When I carried Mr.
Moore's suit outside, the stranger blocked my path.  In spite of his
short haircut and respectable suit, I still recognized the blond
vagabond who had attacked John the evening Paw died.
     "Please," he said with a thick and unrecognizable accent.
     I ran across Clinch toward the Customs House and Post
Office.  This time, the vagabond quickly caught up.
     "Wait!"  He caught Mr. Moore's suit before it hit the
sidewalk.  "Please.  Be.  Not..."
     I became painfully aware of folks moving into and out of the
Customs House.  Giving into my fear would cause me to make a
spectacle of myself.  A policeman would come, and someone might
even write about it in the newspaper.  I had embarrassed my family
often enough without acting stupid in public.  After all, this poor
man was trying to speak to me in English.  The least I could do was
hear what he had to say. "What do you want with me?"
     "To --"  His free hand gestured from his mouth to my ear.
     "Very well."  My soaked body felt like it was going to broil
in the unforgiving sun.
     The vagabond clasped my shoulder to steady me.  "Where... 
Can we go?"
     I led him down Prince Street past the cream colored
Customs House and Post Office with its arched windows and
doorways to the Deadrick Building.  It also had arches over its
doors, which was made of a tan colored stone.  The rest of the
building was made of red brick.  It seemed to dance in the heat.  We
went into the entrance hall near the stairs.
     "I, uh, know you, uh, fear me.  Because of --"  His fist lightly
struck the wall.  "But I won't, uh, strike you."  He paused before
each word as if uttering the simplest sentences required great mental
effort.
     I forced back my lightheadedness.
     "What be your name...  Please.  It has taken, uh, long time
to, to --"
     "I think I understand.  I am Miss Cooper.  What is your
name?"  I leaned against the wall at the foot of the stairs.  I needed
to sit down, and soon.
     "My name... Minnelkin."  His accent was unlike any I had
ever heard.  "We must...  Talk about Greistolon."
     "Who?"
     "The man I danced -- brawled with."
     "Oh.  You mean John."
     "Yes."  He stepped aside on the stairwell to let a gentleman
pass by.  "We talk somewhere more... More 'public'?"
     "That's 'private.'  Follow me."  By the time we ascended the
two flights of stairs to Kellers and Moore, the whole building spun
around me.  My shaking hands could barely unlock the door.  Next
to my typewriter sat a bundle of papers.  I needed to be rid of
Minnelkin quickly so I could get my work done to-day.  I dropped
my purse and gloves on my desk, then I propped my parasol nearby. 
I opened the window in a vain attempt to find a cool breeze; instead,
the stink of the livery assaulted my nostrils.
     I hung my hat on the coat rack next to my short cape.  The
blouse dress I wore was much cooler than my mourning gown, yet I
longed to take it off.  This heat made me want to sit wickedly naked
in a tub full of water and chipped ice, to let the flames of hell fire
dance around me...
     Minnelkin caught me.  His face was as covered with
perspiration as mine.  He fanned me with a stack of blank typewriter
paper he must have grabbed from my desk.  For a moment, the heat
muddled my thinking enough to make my heart leap with sordid
anticipation.
     "You said you needed to talk about John."  I scooted my
chair closer to the window, where a faint breeze came in.
     "I, uh, attack?  Yes, attack Greistolon.  I am... Was... 
Angry."  Minnelkin stared into the distance for an extra long time
before continuing.  "Greistolon, he, hurt my, my sister."  His eyes
brimmed with tears.  Tears filled my eyes, too.  Oh, how such evil
deeds could break the gentle spirit!  No wonder he had lashed out.
     "You must really love your sister to leave your home and
come after him like this."
     "You will, uh, help me find him?"  It was a simple request: 
Help find the man who had shamed his poor, helpless sister.  Help
someone who had been as helpless as I had been when --
Minnelkin's strong arms embraced me.  His neck smelled of
rosewater, and his shirt absorbed my tears.  I held onto him until the
world steadied itself, and even then I wanted to burrow myself into
his rough, woolen suit.
     Pushing aside my heat-induced temptation, I said, "Please
forgive my foolishness. It's so hot... I'm sorry."
     He nodded, although he seemed confused. "You will help
me?"
     "Yes, I'll help you. I don't know where he is now, but you
will have a chance to deal with him very soon. John will call on me
this Friday evening."
     "Friday evening?" Minnelkin looked puzzled.
     I pointed to the wall calendar.  "Today is Monday, June 3rd. 
This Friday will be June 7th.  You have to wait four days and three
nights."
     "Day?"  He shook his head.  "I do not understand."
     "Sunrise to sunset.  Day."  I swung my arm in an east to
west arc.  "Sunset to sunrise.  Night."  I did my best to explain about
morning, afternoon, evening and night.  I sketched the hands of a
clock on sheets of paper to illustrate.  After about twenty minutes of
this, Minnelkin said he understood.
     "Now, John is coming for me on Friday evening to take me
to a church social.  It's downstairs at Ramsey Memorial Church on
Highland, near 8th Street, over in West Knoxville.  It's not very far
from my house."  I went to the table top map of Knoxville.  It took
me several more minutes to make him understand how to get to the
church.  He had never ridden on a street car, which astounded me. If
he walked everywhere he went, he must surely have great stamina.
"Stop it," I muttered to myself. The heat was making me think evil
thoughts again.
     Minnelkin stared at me without saying anything. In spite of
his anger at John, he was acting like a gentleman toward me. If only
he could speak English better, I might get to know what kind of man
he really was.
     "The social starts at six thirty on Friday evening.  It ends at
nine o'clock Friday night."  His brawling with John on Highland
Avenue sprang to mind.  If he attacked so violently again, someone
might call the police.  "Minnelkin, you won't make a spectacle, will
you?"
     "You mean make, uh..."  Helplessly, he looked around the
room until he found the portrait of Mr. Moore.  Minnelkin pointed
to the spectacles that rest on Mr. Moore's nose.
     "No, that's not what I mean!  Are you going to get into
another fight with John?"  I swung my fist to illustrate.
     He muttered something in his strange language and shook his
head.
     "Good.  Then I'll see you Friday evening?"
     "Yes, Miss Cooper."
     "You may call me Carolyn."
     "Carolyn."  His whole face lit up with a smile.  "Thank you." 
Before he left, I asked Minnelkin to hang Mr. Moore's suit on the
coat rack.  He had laid it on the dictionary stand.
     With him gone, I could finally get to work. I was glad that
neither Mr. Kellers nor Mr. Moore had been in this morning.
Explaining things would have been too embarrassing. The bundle
next to my typewriter contained survey results for a tract of land in
North Knoxville, along with a note from Mr. Moore saying he and
Mr. Kellers would be out for the rest of the day.  I rolled a sheet of
paper into the typewriter to set about the tedious task of copying the
document.  When I reached for the dictionary to check Mr. Moore's
spelling of "acreage," I noticed that it was missing from its stand. 
Irritated, I looked up the word in a past contract. Perhaps Mr.
Moore had it in his office again. I would ask him for it when he
came in this afternoon.
     That evening, I fulfilled Mother's request by taking Paw's
things from their closet.  I wouldn't actually give anything away until
Mother returned; meanwhile, his clothes, books, and other
mementos could be sorted.  One trunk in the bottom of the closet
had always been a mystery to me.  I searched the room for nearly
fifteen minutes before I found the key.  The trunk contained a Bible
that read: "To Ebenezer and Nora Cooper, Our Hopes for a Happy
Future, June 24, 1866, Jonathan and Mary Loomis."  On its pages
Mother had recorded the dates we children had been born, as well as
the date Ruth died.
     Further into the trunk, past old clothes and other trinkets, I
found several diaries. I knew I shouldn't read Mother or Paw's
private thoughts, but temptation finally got the better of me. Paw's
earliest entry was dated 1860; the latest was dated 1867.  These
weren't ordinary diaries -- they contained sketches of the moon and
the sky. A small case at the bottom of the trunk held a telescope. 
Beside this case lay another thin book entitled "The Study of
Astronomy, Adapted to the Capacities of Youth:  In Twelve
Familiar Dialogs, between a Tutor and His Pupil: Explaining the
General Phaenomena of the Heavenly Bodies, the Theory of the
Tides, &c."  The inside front cover was a diagram of the Copernican
Solar System.  The fly leaf had a note reading, "Dear Son:  I hope
you enjoy looking at the stars as much as I did at your age."
     Why didn't Paw pass these things down to Eddie?  Did his
job as a railroad engineer make him forget about his boyhood
hobby?  While I packed the notes and telescope to take to Eddie,
another note fell from the astronomy book.  This one read:
     "Dear Nora, Our son Edward appears not to have much
interest in things intellectual.  I don't think he would properly
appreciate this heirloom, so instead I want you to give it to Carolyn
for her sixteenth birthday.  Ebenezer."
     For the next few evenings, I packed Paw's things into boxes
for Mother to put or give away when she returned. During the day, I
found myself looking out the window. Sometimes, I almost caught a
glimpse of someone who looked like John or Minnelkin. In my
dreams, they both followed me. By the time Friday arrived, I was
glad that this unpleasant situation would be resolved before the
evening was over.
     At the church social, fiddlers played a mountain tune while
Eddie and his friends buck danced.  Everyone clapped in time to
their steps.  When they finished, the boys played songs for us to
square dance to.  John shot me several worried glances. I had come
here with him, but I wasn't about to spend the evening with him.
Especially since I now knew a terrible truth about him and
Minnelkin's sister. Avoiding him proved to be easy. When John
asked me to dance, I always made sure I had already promised
someone else. I would be glad when Minnelkin got here.
     A group of women stared at me with disbelief; after all, I
didn't come often to these awful things. Some younger girls giggled
with their nasty gossip. Several other women chattered about
useless things like the latest style in tea dresses and the upcoming
clogging contest at the Flag Day picnic. I kept myself on the dance
floor as much as possible; I had no more desire to talk to them than
to dance with John. When the fiddlers started the Virginia Reel,
John took my arm.  I let him.  After all, how much longer was this
going to last?  Luckily, a couple of young ladies cornered him
afterwards.
     "Well, if it isn't Carolyn Cooper." Mark Hancock plunged
the metal dipper into the punch bowl. He had put on weight since his
marriage to the former Trudy Morton. "May I have this dance?"
     He pulled me close as we swung among the other couples.  I
tried to keep a respectable space between us.  Enough rumors would
be started tonight without his adding to them.  I glanced over my
shoulder at John, who danced with the Reverend's wife.  She
normally shied away from strangers.  No doubt about it, John was a
charmer.
     We switched partners, and Minnelkin took my arm.  At the
end of the dance, he led me outside.  He stared at me for a long time
before he said, "Please, Carolyn, stay with me so Greistolon will...
Follow." His English had certainly improved greatly in only four
days.
     "What is that?" I watched Minnelkin pull an oblong object
from his waist coat's pocket.
     My pointing quickened his response.  "Something that, uh,
makes death, as you might say, 'quick and painless.'"
     "You didn't say you were going to kill him!"
     "Ssh."  Minnelkin covered my mouth with his hand.  "You
want no 'spectacle.'"
     I pushed his hand away.  "But that's murder!"  No matter
what John had done, no man could rightfully take his life.  "Can't
you see how wrong it is?"
     "After what he -- " Minnelkin's foreign language finished the
sentence.
     "I -- I understand why you want to kill John.  But if your
sister were here right now, would she approve?"
     It took him an extra long time to digest what I had said. "All
right. I not kill him. For you. And her."  He returned the object to
his pocket.
     "Let me call the police."  I put my hands on his shoulders. 
"They can lock John up for what he did."
     "And what was that, Carolyn?"  John descended the church's
steps.  "Who are you, Sir?"
     "You know who he is!"  I never had cause to speak to
anyone in that tone of voice.
     Minnelkin gently pushed me behind him.  "You know not
me.  But my sister.  Oliva.  Remember her?"
     "Oliva?..  The merchant in the Triangle?  If you think I've
cheated her, I'll be more than happy to pay the difference."
     Minnelkin's anguished reply was in his original language. 
Puzzled, John glanced at me.  Minnelkin almost shouted what
sounded like the same phrase.
     "Please!"  I touched my finger to my lips.  "They'll hear you."
     "What's a-goin' on out there?"  The Reverend called from
inside the church.
     "Just a minor disagreement, Sir." John stepped around
Minnelkin and grabbed my arm.  "We're leaving now." Before I
could protest, he pulled me up Highland Avenue toward 7th Street.
     Behind us, Minnelkin called out, "Let Carolyn go!"
     "I'm protecting her from you!"  John pushed me aside.  "If
that is what this is all about --"
     Minnelkin stared at us for a moment before answering.  "I
tell you why."  His face turned purple with rage.  "And you must be
stopped."  He reached into his waist coat's pocket. "Before you hurt
someone else."
     "No!"  I jumped in front of John.  "You promised!"
     Minnelkin muttered another foreign phrase then, with his
head hung low, walked away.
     John grabbed my arm before I could run after him.  His grip
was firm enough to restrain me without hurting me.  "What did he
tell you?"
     "Minnelkin said you -- "  I covered my face with my hand. I
wished the earth would swallow me whole right then. This wasn't
the kind of thing one ever said about folks in polite -- or any other --
company. Especially to their faces. Yet not telling him was no
kindness, either.  I had no way of knowing for sure that Minnelkin
had told me the truth. "He said you -- you 'hurt' his sister."
     John frowned with puzzlement.  "How could I have 'hurt'
somebody I met for only a few minutes?  All I did was barter with
her."
     "Barter?" There was an unmistakable ring of truth to his
words. Perhaps this was a disagreement over money, as John had
suggested. After all, if he had been truly intimate with Minnelkin's
sister, he would have recognized her name more quickly. Yet,
Minnelkin's anger clearly showed that John had done his sister no
favor in their trade. It was possible that John had taken something
valuable from her without knowing what he had done. History
books were filled with misunderstandings of this kind, yet I had
insisted that poor Oliva had been hurt in the same way I had been.
Now, thanks to my irrationality, not one but two men knew about it.
Minnelkin probably wouldn't understand, but it was as plain as day
on John's face. Somehow, I knew he wasn't going to stop asking
questions until I told him everything. I certainly would not trust a
near stranger with things I had kept secret from my own family. It
was time to extricate myself from this as gracefully as possible.
     John chose his next words very carefully: "Do you think I
'hurt' his sister, too?"
     "I misunderstood his meaning.  Can't we leave it at that?"  I
had trouble looking at a man I had falsely accused.
     "Not when it means you don't trust me."  His gloved finger
wiped away my tear.      "Carolyn, do you fear other men as much as
you fear me?"
     Other men I could send away.  "Please, I don't want to talk
about it."
     "All right, for now."  He slid my arm into his.  "Let me take
you home."

1987
     A crash and Judith's shouts awakened me.  Her language
made me blush.
     "Take it easy.  It's not that serious," Paul said.
     "It's not your hand, either!"
     I walked into the kitchen.  Paul plunged Judith's right hand
into a bowl of ice water.  A pan of biscuits had scattered onto the
floor.  A frayed pot-holder lay beside them. "From now on, when I
say 'We need new pot-holders,' you'll listen, won't you?  It's
probably a second degree at worst.  A couple of tiny blisters."
     "Yeah, it's going to feel real good when I have to pick up my
soldering iron tomorrow morning. Thank goodness for my
masochism streak."
     "Good morning, Carolyn darling. I was wondering if you
were going to sleep all day."  Paul picked up biscuits with another
frayed pot-holder.
     The clock on the microwave read 9:00.  "Oh, no!  We're
going to be late for church!"
     "Church?"  Judith and Paul frowned at each other.
     "Man, I haven't been to church since my wedding."  Judith
swished her hand in the ice water  "'My brothers and sisters --'"
     "Please, Judy, don't start with the Billy Graham
impersonation.  Not on an empty stomach."  He tossed the biscuits
into the trash can.  I could never understand how these folks could
waste perfectly good food!  "It looks like we're going to have lox
and bagels this morning.  And speaking of good ideas..."  He took
my hand.  "Could I try on this fabulous ring of yours?  It'll go great
with my 'Lord of Light' costume."
     "Wait 'til I get the circuit working before you pick out
accessories."  Judith pulled her hand from the ice bath.
     "Put it back," he said.
     "My fingers are turning blue!"  She returned her hand to the
bowl.
     He held my hand under the light.  "I've never seen anything
like this.  There's no metal at all, and it glows. Too cool."
     "Why don't I take it off so you can get a closer look?"  I
tugged on the ring.  "It seems to be stuck."
     "Here, let me try."  He nearly pulled my finger out of joint.
     "All that activity is making her finger swell.  Put your hand in
here. Cold, isn't it?"  Judith dried her hand with a paper towel.  After
a few moments, she pulled my numb hand from the ice water, dried
it with another paper towel, and tugged on the ring.  It still wouldn't
move.
     "Why won't it come off?"
     "Now, Carolyn, don't panic. Mama can fix anything. Go
make yourself useful, Marty. Grab my wire cutters."
     I withdrew my hand.  "I won't let you hurt it!"
     "Okay.  Hey, Marty --"
     What was the matter with me? I couldn't leave it stuck on my
finger. "I want it off!"
     "Will you make up your mind?" Judith gave her all too
familiar look of exasperation.
     "What?"  Paul carried a tool with heavy blades that could cut
off a finger.
     "Non sequitur," Judith said. "Give me those."
     "Do it quickly, please." I laid my hand on the counter.
     "Don't rush me, kid. And hold still."  She carefully snipped
the thinnest section of my ring.  A stabbing pain shot up my arm.
Between swear words, Judith apologized for cutting me. Blood
trickled down my palm, then the pain stopped.  When I wiped away
my blood, the ring sat unbroken on my finger. I hopefully tugged on
it, but it remained steadfast.
     "Let me take a closer look. Marty, hand me the magnifying
glass out of that drawer."  Judith peered at my hand.  "Jesus Christ!
No wonder you started bleeding. That damn ring has just about
grown to your finger.  How long have you had it on?"
     "I'm...  Not sure."  Had I slipped it on my finger only a few
days ago?
     "We need to take her to a doctor," Paul suggested.  "He
could cut it loose with a scalpel."
     "No!"  I held my hands against my chest.  "You'll kill it!"
     "What?"  Judith and Paul looked at each other.
     "Just where did you get that ring from, anyway?"  Judith laid
her magnifying glass on the counter. "And what the hell is it made
of?"
     "How can we kill an inanimate object?" Paul frowned down
at me. "Come on Carolyn, talk to us."
     I wanted so badly to tell them.  But what was the truth? 
Without John, I had no hope of confirming my memories of home. 
Not even folks as strange as Judith and Paul would believe me with
the ring as my only evidence. There could be many other
explanations about how it had attached itself, assuming that it had
actually done so. I had no other proof that John had even existed,
and I was beginning to wonder if my own memories were more
fantasy than reality.
     "I -- I found the ring," I finally said. "And... Please, don't
take me to a doctor. I'm... Not ready to take it off."
     Judith and Paul exchanged a look that clearly demonstrated
they thought otherwise. Although, to my relief, Judith replied, "It's
your finger. And your secret. When you are ready to get rid of it, or
to tell us what it is, will you let us know?"